Impeccant
by Lovely-Madness-13
Summary: Perfection can be a curse, and imperfection, a blessing. For Jerelita week! Thanks for reading!


Stone wings spread out as if to enfold all who stood under them. Sad eyes, cracked with age, looked down coyly, away from all who stared.

"Aelita!"

It was such a strange thing to see, she thought, her eyes following the graceful curve the of the stone hair that curled around the statue's shoulders.

"Aelita?!"

"Such a cold thing to be so perfect."

"Aelita?"

A warm hand rested on her shoulder, breaking her concentration. "Jeremie!" Aelita turned, smiling at the young man who had come up behind her.

"Are you alright?" Jeremie took his hand back, glancing up at the angel statue Aelita had been staring at so intently for the past few minutes. He glanced back at her, noting that her face was slightly pale. He frowned.

Aelita, unaware of his concern, nodded. "I'm fine. Just..." She looked back up at the statue. "Are these common here? On earth?"

Jeremie blinked at her, confused by the question. "Well...uh...they're mostly found in graveyards, but yes, they're fairly common. Why?"

Aelita shrugged. "I read once how angels are meant to be these perfect beings. Impeccant, with out fault or flaw. Totally perfect." She tilted her head to one side, turning back to the statue. "Is it a good thing to be so wonderful?"

Jeremie stared, trying to wrap his mind around the question. Looking at her, he watched the smile on her face fade slowly as she looked up at the stone angel. "Being perfect and being wonderful aren't the same thing," he said after a minute, choosing his words carefully. There was a sad look in her eyes, one that almost matched the lonely expression on the angel's face. Two beautiful faces, one of skin, one of stone, peered at one another each standing as if the weight of the world had come upon their shoulders. The similarity sent a chill down his spine, although why, he wasn't sure.

"But perfect is sought after here," she replied softly, almost as if she wasn't talking to him. "The better one is at everything, the more they are loved by others."

"No human is perfect." Jeremie took a step closer, hoping to pull her out of her revery. "Aelita, what's wrong?"

"I'm not human." Slowly, as if turning to stone herself, Aelita looked at him. The loneliness he saw in her green eyes twisted his heart tighter than a snake. "I've never been human, even though I'm here now." She smiled gently, now, and reached out to take his hand. Warmth flickered up his fingers, and Jeremie felt his face go red. "Which I never would have been without you, Jeremie."

"But, Aelita..." Nonplussed, he ignore the embarrassment and his pounding heart. "You are human. You are real." He looked down at their joined hands. "You can feel my hand, right? You feel the air around you. That's real. You've been on earth for long enough to know that."

"What am I, then?"

Her voice shook slightly as she looked up at the angel again. "Am I supposed to be imperfect? I can't be perfect, although by being inhuman I should be."

Jeremie stared at her. "Who told you that?"

"You did."

Jeremie gaped. "Wh-what?" His heart fell too his shoes. When did he ever...how...?

"You called me an angel." Now she did look at him, her cheeks a little pink. When he just turned red again, she smiled slightly, but the expression did little to take away the strange sorrow in her eyes. "Which is a creature known for it's perfection. I don't think you wanted me to hear it, though. It was...a while ago."

His face was about to burn off, he was sure if it. "I...I...uh...wasn't speaking literally, of course!" Desperate, he took her hands in his. "Please, Aelita, just because you don't think you're human doesn't mean you're supposed to be perfect. That's impossible! You're you, and that's perfect for you, and you don't have to worry about what others think."

"But what do you think?"

I love you. That was the answer that sprang on the tip of his tongue when she met his eyes. No. No, idiot, he couldn't say that. Blushing harder, he didn't look away from her. "Aelita, angels probably don't exist. Or if they do, they're no better than the rest of is." When she turned to glance back at the statue, Jeremie put a gentle hand on her chin, and she looked back at him, surprise taking away a little of the sadness in her face. "Please, Aelita. If I called you an angel-" which you are, muttered a voice in the back of his head, but he ignored it. "it's not because I think you're perfect, or that you should be. No one is impeccant. No one should be. You're you. And that's what's most important. Angel's aren't just known for their perfection." He shook his head, not aware on how closer she had moved towards him. "They're beautiful, brave, talented, unique, different. Sometimes they're quite frightening. But they're just as imperfect as anything else."

"Beautiful?" Pink blush bloomed her cheeks, and Jeremie realized what he had said.

"I mean...well, yeah, but..." Crap...Now even his ears were probably smoking. His glasses would melt off his face any second. "You...um..." The next second, however, his stuttering ceased. His thoughts seemed to totally freeze. The only warm thing, the only thing moving, was his heart, and the soft pressure of her lips on his.

She pulled back after a second, her green eyes now dancing. The sorrow had vanished. "Thank you, Jeremie," she whispered.

Jeremie blinked at her. "F...for what?"

She shook her head, and held out her hand to him. "Lets go, before the others think we've gotten lost." Jeremie stared at her hand for a moment, still waiting for his brain to catch up with his still thudding heart.

"I...okay." He took her hand, and she led him away from the stone angel. "Aelita...if I said anything to offend you..."

Aelita turned to look at him, and the simple happiness on her face made his brain threaten to stall over again. "It's okay, Jeremie." Her smile widened, and she squeezed his hand with hers gently. "No one's perfect."


End file.
